


Hold me Up, We'll build Anew

by Eshisakka



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arguments, Deaf Character, Denial, Disabled Character, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Tommyinnit, Scars, Temporary Character Death, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Violence, Violence towards children, a bit of disassociation, also any tubbo n tommy shippers don't even look at this fic. And i mean that seriously, basically Tubbo gets more than scars after his death via loud fireworks, big sister niki, children at war, dyslexic character, i'll be adding tags as it goes on, learning to take responsibility and grow pog!, lots of crying honestly, stay the f away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:09:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27588638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eshisakka/pseuds/Eshisakka
Summary: What if the consequences of death were not so infinitesimal? What if, along with the aesthetic reminders of what he expierenced, Tubbo had to learn to live with even more? And what if, to do so, they all had to face what they've been ignoring this entire time?A story of hurt, recovery and finding a new normal.
Relationships: Niki | Nihachu & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 11
Kudos: 205





	1. carry me to somewhere safe

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: This is real angsty. If I find the ccs involved ever want me to take this down I will. Please don't send this to them or spread it around in places where they frequent (*cough* twitter *cough*). It's just an exercise of my writing and creativity, using the Dream SMP storyline, and is not be tied to the irl creators themselves. Thank you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Around 1k to start off with, folks! Sorry for starting yet another story without updating my previous ones, I just jump focus very quickly :'> Fortunately, tho, I've already got a couple additional chapters written up, so hopefully i'll actually be able to not get a horribly horriblly abbysmal schedule, and instead just get a terrible one ^^ not to jinx it or anything
> 
> But yeah. Due to the nature of this fic, I'll be changing some details to make it more immersive (which is a fancy way of say just doing whatever I want ig), but eventually i'll most definitely completely derail the plot and probably not converge it and canon any time soon. So yup ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Hope you all enjoy the upcoming War!! <3 Oh and this fic too I guess. But mostly the war™
> 
> Anyways, Sorry, onto the fic!

When Tubbo respawns, the deafening noise of fireworks is still echoing in his mind. His ears hurt. His skin still feels like it's burning, his hands automatically grasping his shirt to cover a wound. When he finally looks, through vision still swimming and patchy, they carry no blood. His suit is perfectly clean. His skin.... oh.

His skin isn't.

His hands shake harder as he inspects the newly made burn scars. Fumbling, fingers unfeeling, he pries his buttons open to check his torso. The booms of fireworks have turned to a shrill ringing in his ears as, joining the other scars he has gained over this war, he can now see a thin, but large slash, starting near his armpit and ending at his side. The burns scars cover that as well. His throat is all tight. His head is very dizzy.

Slowly exhaling, he lays it back down, becoming more aware of the bed he’s lying in. As he buttons his shirt and jacket back up again, he realises his other surroundings as well. He’s near the site of the festival. The ringing in his ears has not stopped. Absentmindedly, he wonders how many noises it's drowning out. Cause beside that, he can't hear anything. What time is it? Surely the festival is still going, right?

With a deep pain in his heart, weighing it down, he tries to ignore everything surrounding it. What he now knows it means.

...He needs to get back to it. To everyone.

...Tommy.

He needs to get back to Tommy. He knows he was watching.

Legs weak, he stands up, waiting out the dizzy spell, and makes his way out the building he's in to get out in the open. He can't hear his footsteps. It's a strange thing to notice, he pays the sound of them no mind usually, but the sudden absence of them is sticking out, and it's uncomfortable. He hopes the ringing leaves soon. It's making his head hurt.

The light of the sun as he steps out the doorway blinds him for a second, and he raises his hand above his brow to offer some cover. Blinking, he slides his sight over the whole site…

It's empty.

Everyone’s already left… alright. That’s alright. He didn't expect anyone to stick around. Why would they? It wasn't a real festival anyways.

What truly unnerves him are the bloodstains he can see among the upturned seats. The soot covering the ground.

He pointedly avoids looking at the podium. Instead, he numbly pulls out his communicator. Checks for any information.

A bit of relief lightens his heart as he sees Tommy's name.

_Tommyinnit whispers to you: Are you alright?_

_Tommyinnit whispers to you: Where are you?_

He quickly writes out a response.

_You whisper to Tommyinnit: I'm by the saets at the fetival site_

The response is almost immideate.

_Tommyinnit whispers to you: wait there._

He does. He stands there, feeling increasingly distant as the ringing in his head continues to overtake everything else. Any outside noises, any thoughts. The skin on his arms is tingly. He tries to scratch the sensation off of him. Instead, he's left with the illogical and alien feeling that his arms aren't the correct length. His entirety feels unbalanced, and he can't shake how unreal everything feels right now.

A boy is standing in front of him. Blinking, he watches as his mouth moves, his hands gripping Tubbo's shoulders. What…

…blonde hair, red and white shirt, blue eyes… Oh.

He lets out a silent relieved laugh and throws himself at Tommy, feeling the other wrap his arms around him tightly just as eagerly. He lingers there, wrapped in his best friend’s embrace, letting himself return to the present. As reality strikes him again, he stiffens as he realises the arms around him are shaking.

Slowly, carefully, he untangles from the other's strong grasp to get a closer look at him.

He has a new scar on his cheek. Which means he’s died, too. His gaze is quick to move to the ground, avoiding Tubbo. He notices the linger, tho. On his face, his hands – his own new scars that are on full display. Tommy's brows are furrowed in that quiet sort of way, the way he gets only when he was truly and geniunely upset. And this time he looked more upset than Tubbo's seen him in a long, long time. Concerned, he raises one hand to rest on his shoulder, like Tommy had done for him.

Immideately, his gaze snaps back up to his, and he can see him take a harsh breath before launching into a ramble. Tubbo can't hear it. He grimaces and tries to tell him so, but the fact that he can't hear himself either makes him stop quickly. Uncertain, he thinks it over for a moment before pulling out his communicator again to instead write Tommy the explanation, tho he does mouth along still.

_You whisper to Tommyinnit: I can't hear you. There's a rigning in my ears._

He chooses not to aknowledge the fact that the ringing has been getting quieter, while the world remains silent as ever.

After all, Tommy's expression upon reading that out is far more pressing. First there's confusion, then his eyes start blinking from Tubbo to the message relied to him, worry slipping into his features. His mouth briefly opens, then he thinks better.

_Tommyinnit whispers to you: What do you mean?_

_Tommyinnit whispers to you: How bad is it?_

_Tommyinnit whispers to you: What can you hear?_

Tubbo takes longer than usual to respond. After all, how _should_ he respond? It's only been like, what, half an hour since this started? He can't gauge how big of a deal it is, but, it will get better, he's sure. In the end, he decides to just be honest.

_You whisper to Tommyinnit: I can't really hear anething sorry_

The worry on Tommy’s face only gets deeper and deeper as he stares, until it edges on panic. His mouth gapes a few times, anxious energy radiating off of every jerky tilt of his head, every nervous tug at his shirt, the tapping of his foot. It's clear he's torn on something. And he remains silent like that for a while, just fidgeting and eyes deep in thought, biting his cheek, until Tubbo can see him mutter something before finally typing another message, resolute.

_Tommyinnit whispers to you: Let's just get back to Pogtopia._

Tubbo's stomach churns as he's suddenly reminded that Manburg is not a safe place for him anymore. And, in retrospect, it never truly was. He never _felt_ safe, that was for sure. But… it was still better than this. Better than all of this. Having to trot upon the shattered remains of L'manburg was painful, but before he could at least pretend it wasn't all gone. That there was still some of that old familiarity there, the laughter and community and shared memories, found in little moments of reprieve, of peace. Like at the festival…

He could not pretend anymore.

In more ways than one, he was tired. And so, when Tommy steps to his side and wraps an arm around his shoulders, he doesn't hesitate on leaning on the other heavily. Tommy, in response, just moves his arm slightly to a more supportive position and starts leading the way, unhurriedly, passing glances at him every so often.

It's comforting. Tubbo feels like they hadn't been able to be in each other's company like this in a long time. It reminds him of the early days, when war was still a new concept. When they would return home after a battle, donning new wounds, allowing the warmth of their hold on one another be a shield from the increasingly cold world. From the freezing wind, the ominous swaying of the trees, the potential eyes hiding inbetween their branches, side by side as the first or last slivers of light slide across the land and cover their forms like a blanket. It's nostalgic, and the stinging in his eyes is as familiar as it is strange. It's been so long since he’s cried.

And this was not the time to start again. But, if his throat does get a bit too choked up, and a couple whimpers leave his throat, and a few small tears soak into white cotton, noone but Tommy has to know.


	2. Tears and Guts and Damage made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where the graphic violence comes in. If anyone wants to skip out, the notes at the end have a summary :> be safe everyone
> 
> Also, to make it clear, I'm writing in the pov of the characters, so their thoughts are not necessarily reflections of my own takes, that kind of stuff. Not sure how necessary this is to state, but just in case.
> 
> Oh, also! I decided that the Pogtopians have their own little rooms in the ravine, cause, unlike their minecraft characters, they need sleep :)

The first thing Tommy does, upon entering Pogtopia and seeing the wary glances passed around Wilbur, Techno and now Niki, the pig not meeting his eyes, is lead Tubbo to his room and sit him down on the bed. He can see the exhaustion in his best friend, and with how… with what's happened, leaving him out of the inevitable argument brewing in the ravine is the best option. He needs to rest. And Tommy has a bitch to snap at.

The brief moment of relief of realising Tubbo won't have to hear it all makes him feel horribly, horribly gutted.

With a lump in his throat and mind racing, he quickly sends a message to Tubbo telling him he's gonna go speak to the others and for him to just rest, gives him a brief, what he hopes is a convincingly comforting smile (He knows it wasn't), then exits the doorway, wishing the image of Tubbo looking at him with that sad face would leave his mind. And as he makes his way over to the trio, he suddenly realises he's shaking. Quietly, and very thankful that he's not in their line of sight just yet, he let’s himself have a moment to rest his head against the cold stone wall and just. Breathe.

Minutes pass. When he no longer can see his hand tremor as it rests on the andesite, he takes one last deep breath and straightens his spine, hearing it crack a bit. Then, he puts on his best neutral face and takes the steps forward to reach the hoglins den.

Wilbur's the first to notice him, arms opening in false invitation and that wide crooked smile on his face. “Tommy! How nice of you to finally join us!” He leans his head, takes a step to the left to look beyond the teen, searching the background, then zeros back on him. “No Tubbo? What, are you really leaving him out of this?” If things were different, Tommy would have felt unnerved at the intensity in his gaze.

Alas, Tommy was already fed up with Wilbur's shit, and for now he had a bigger fish to fry. “Yes.”

Ignoring Wilbur's stare, he turns to Techno and glares.

“Techno.”

Techno looks at him. For the first time since this whole mess started, Techno has the guts to look him in the eyes. And he could not give more of a shit at the thinly veiled anxiety he saw there.

“Tommy.”

“…What's wrong with you.”

Techno seems taken aback by the question. The anxiety and defensiveness turns to idle consideration. “I mean…”

Tommy wants to laugh. Tubbo is laying in his bed, ridden with burn scars and damaged eardrums, and Techno is still here, still clearly thinking over his own problems, avoiding taking blame. It makes him so angry he almost wants to bend over and cry.

He doesn't.

“Get out.”

Techno startles. Tommy's breathing is heavy. “What?”

“I want you _out! You just murdered him!_ ”

Before he can get another word in, Wilbur has risen back to his feet and stepped to his side, and the hand he feels on his shoulder is as painful as it is familiar. And it is so, so familiar. “Wait, Tommy, don't you see-"

“NO, _I DON'T CARE-"_

“No, Tommy! He didn't know, he can still help us, you're being-"

“Wilbur, _get off of me-_ “

“You can’t do anything about this, Tommy, he's staying.”

“I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR _FUCKING PLANS WILBUR!_ ” He tears out of Wil's grip, feeling white noise fill his brain. “NONE OF THIS HAS TO DO WITH YOU, THIS IS TUBBO! Techno _killed Tubbo, he fucking hurt him!_ I'm not gonna stand by and let him be a part of this anymore when he’s so clearly against us!”

There's a silence. It makes him feel infuriatingly small, as does the annoyed look on Wilbur at his outburst. The man rolls his eyes. “Fine! Then go and fight him, beat him up! Let you anger out, _child_.”

Tommy is _so_ tired of feeling small.

“ _Fine_.” He grits out.

Before he knows it, he has Techno's lapels in a tight grip, and his right hand balled and raised. Niki calls out. He doesn't listen. Blood splatters against his knuckles as they meet pink flesh and dense bone, and then his own shirt is balled up, and his fury turns desperate as he feels the ground below him vanish. His back hits a hard wall. He hopes he isn't crying. It would be so, so pathetic to cry right now.

So, instead, he shrieks, giving his best punches and kicks and bites, up until his own face flares up in pain, and then he can practically feel his skull grind against his brain, and then he's doubled over, and then there’s an overwhelming stench of vomit and blood and distant yells of panic and anger that are _so loud_ , and….

Before he can comprehend it, everything has faded to black.

* * *

Tubbo doesn't sleep well.

Well, he isn't sure he even _sleeps_.

It's a weird thing. He becomes more and more exhausted, until he can't recognise it anymore. Deep rooted anxiety keeps waking him up. Daydreams and nightmares blur until he can no longer tell whether he's conscious or not. Time has slipped past any meaning, it could've been an hour or several days. Eventually, he notices and learns to appreciate the sounds he can hear echoing in his brain that he couldn't hear while awake.

Eventually, he wakes up to Tommy.

He thinks nothing of him at first, laying in bed next to him. He looks peaceful, if unusually still. It takes Tubbo too long to recognise the new scars that have already joined his other ones. A nasty looking one on his nose, a split beneath his fringe, a little one under his lip.

It takes him even longer to understand what they mean.

The thing about dying that makes it so undesirable in this world is the fact that it leaves scars. If you don't die, if you just let your injuries heal in peace, they eventually fade away, no matter how bad they got. But if you respawn, they become a part of you. They become reminders of your traumas, damages that could've been fixed with just a bit more care, that can no longer be erased.

Some people don't mind them. Some people would say they prefer the potential chronic consequences of them to the agonising pain of living them through fully. Some people even wear them with pride, as trophies of their battles.

Something tells Tubbo that these are not scars that Tommy would be proud to bear. Something about seeing them on Tommy's face, so brutal and clearly man-made, makes Tubbo want to cry.

So, with noone aware enough to see, and nothing but the silence keeping him company, he finally, fully, cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary:  
> Tommy passes Wilbur, Techno and Niki as he enters Pogtopia and brings Tubbo to his room. Leaving Tubbo to lay in bed and rest, with a heavy and restless heart, but a determined stride, he goes to talk to the others. 
> 
> Quickly, things escalate as Tommy gets mad at Techno, and with Wilbur's encouragement, he snaps and hits the man. A fight breaks out and Tommy dies.
> 
> A pov shift: Tubbo is in bed, restless, when he slowly realises Tommy has respawned in bed next to him. He notices the new scars on his face. He muses, revealing that it's only upon dying that scars are permanent in this world. Wrecked with heartache, alone, Tubbo finally fully cries.


	3. It'll take a while to heal again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! And sorry if there's a wait until the next chapter as well, quarantine's biting me in the ass and I'm just trying to deal with school n all, so :'> might be too busy to write much... anyways, here's the next chap!
> 
> Oh, also, I should mention that, unlike in canon, Techno only killed Tubbo with the fireworks - everyone else, due to being further away, got burnt, and maybe hurt or, in the case of Tommy, even killed by the fighting afterwards, but didn't get dealt as bad of a hand as Tubbo did. I debated whether Schlatt and Quackity should have died, too, but decided that, since they weren't trapped like Tubbo was, they were able to react and barely escape together, tho not without sustaining injuries. They'll get better tho. Dunno how much logical sense all that makes, but.... yeah! ;^^ just wanted to explain that!

When Tommy finally rises to consciousness, the first thing he feels, besides a splitting headache, is warmth. It's familiar. It's so different from the coldness of the ravine. And he doesn't need to open his eyes to realise why that is.

Giving a long, shaky, but content sigh, he takes in Tubbo's snores and shifts to return the embrace. His eyes blink open, and he looks to the golden clock propped up on the wall. It's noon. He decides, then, to let the day pass by. He's got nothing to do here anymore anyway. There's noone here who he wants to see but Tubbo. And he’s sure there's noone who wants to see him as well.

Time passes. Absentmindedly, he knows that he's gonna have to emerge from here eventually. If nothing, just to get food so they don't starve and die again. And then, he's gonna have to face Wilbur, and Techno, and Niki, and explain to them how badly Tubbo was actually hurt, cause he never did that, did he? He just recklessly threw himself at the enemy like he always does. But… He's just so tired.

His head hurts and he's so tired of everything right now. At least here, with Tubbo, he can imagine that they're back before any of this even started.

Something suddenly pokes him in the shoulder, and he nearly jumps out the bed. Tense, he looks up, but relaxes ever so slightly when he sees that it's Niki. She's looking down at him apologetically, that same kind look in her gaze that she usually wears, even if it's coupled with bone deep exhaustion and red eyes. It makes Tommy confused.

“Sorry… I brought you two food.”

Blinking, he turns to the two plates she’s holding, and numbly nods. Slowly, he carefully detangles from Tubbo's grasp, the other boy mumbling something as he does, and dizzily sits up in the bed. Niki smiles and puts the food on the crafting table next to the bed for them to take.

Tommy eyes the baked potatoes and rabbit, then looks back to Niki. She's leaving. His chest feels heavy, his fingers pulling on the sheets. A question burning on his tongue, repeating in his mind, as if that would make it easier to utter.

Before she has her other foot out the doorway, Tommy slips.

“Why?”

She stills. Turns back, a carefully confused look on her face as she considers him. Her stare feels like fire.

“…Because I thought you two might be hungry? You must still be exhausted from… before. I…” she looks down. “this is the least I can do.”

When he feels her look at him again, Tommy shortly nods. Then, hesitantly, she leaves.

Tommy didn’t have the courage to correct her on the question.

In the end, he still doesn't understand why she isn't dissapointed in him.

* * *

Niki feels sick.

She had been a part of the first war. She had seen the boys miserable. Seen them tired, wounded, angry. Had held them as they cried, even, once. But still, she had never seen Tommy like this.

She had never seen Tommy look _guilty_.

Embarrassed, sure. Maybe even a bit of guilt here and there, for some slight or misjudged prank. But never to this extent. Never outright regretful and _scared._

It left her shaken. And she already felt shaken from _so much_.

Shaken from the festival. Shaken from watching Tubbo die, in sparks and noise. Shaken from the bloodshed afterwards, the threats to her life. Shaken from seeing the newfound madness in Wilbur's eyes, the _apathy_. Shaken from seeing Tommy warily carry a scar-ridden Tubbo to his room, the latter practically dead on his feet, away from them, retreating to their own space.

Shaken from watching Tommy bleed out on the ground. Life slowly draining from his eyes.

It sent her back to the duel he had with Dream, for L'manburg's freedom. He had bled out in front of them, too, then. Except, it wasn't at the hands of a friend. It wasn't from being brutally beaten to death. Then, it had been an almost noble battle, with respect between two enemies, and his blood had quickly dissolved in the water. Unlike now.

Now, she stood in front of the evidence, her vision swimming, her head full of static. Sharp, and overwhelming.

She wanted to leave. She had only been here a day and it already felt worse than living in Manburg had been. Watching her friends slip into mindless animosity… It was maddening, not understanding how it ever came to this point. Not understanding how to help, how to prevent any of it. She felt helpless. She felt like a waste.

But, no. She had to stay. She couldn't leave. Not when Tommy and Tubbo were here, alone. Not when she could be there for them.

To protect them, she'd stay.

Her decision made, she pulled herself out of her trance, and made her way out of the ravine, passing a bandaged Techno as she did. When she returned, she had a bucket full of water in one hand, and a rag torn from her shirt in the other.

Kneeling by the dried up puddle of red, she began to clean up.

It wasn't long until a presence joined her on the ground. He had a rag as well, reaching towards the bucket, and aiding in scrubbing the death off of the rough stone. Niki tried not to scoff. She failed.

Eventually, she couldn't stop herself. “Why did you make him fight.”

A pause. She could feel Wilbur’s gaze on her, for just a moment, before it averted again. “He'd already started the argument. He needed a way to get out his anger.”

Niki felt a fury of her own bubbling in her gut. “There are better ways of dealing with anger, Wil.” She snapped.

Wilbur glared and snared, rattling like a snake when under attack. “Well, what else could I do?! I couldn't just let him drive Techno away! And he's obviously not just gonna calm down, he's _Tommy_. You know how he is. We don't have time for his pettiness.”

Niki wanted to slap him. She wanted to grab him by his coat and shake him until he regained a piece of mind, cause _holy shit_ , is he being fucking stupid. “He's a _kid_! I know you don't care about him as family anymore,” Wilbur tensed, “since you so clearly only care about your war politics right now, but at least get a sliver of common sense to remember that he's a _child_ , and Tubbo is his _best friend_. _Of course_ he’s gonna be angry, he's allowed to be! They were never even supposed to be a part of this!”

“ _He wanted to be!_ ” Wil shouted, the rag he was tightly gripping close to his heart, almost to the point of tear, dripping Tommy’s blood.

“And you let him.”

Wilbur breathed. Niki sighed.

“Look, Wilbur, that's what it means to be a kid. You don't quite get the consequences of your actions yet. Least of all the consequences of _war_. He could have never predicted this. You're his big brother. You should have been more careful.”

The other continued the fidget, eyes fleeting, from the blood to the stone. “But… I couldn't just-"

The words tripped on his tongue, and he decided to stay silent.

“…Alright.” Niki was tired. “What's done is done. Just… care for him. Don't dismiss him. Try to be better.” She drenched the cloth again, trying not to think further on her task. “All's not done yet. He's not gone, you can make it better, and we can fix things. You just gotta listen to him. We're not gonna win this if we keep tearing each other up. We need to look after one another, Wil.”

Wilbur didn't look at her. “…right.”

The rest of their work carried on in uninterrupted silence, heavy with private thoughts and exhaustion. When they were done, Wilbur took the bucket of water, now tinted red, and both of the rags before Niki could, and left the dusty space.

Niki didn't watch as he ascended the steps. She just picked at the blood beneath her nails, before making her way to the makeshift bed they had put in a more quiet corner of the ravine for her, and sat on it with her face in her palms. When she finally slept, it was the first bit of rest her body felt since Tubbo's death.

Her mind, tho, would still not recieve that same kindness, and continued to taunt her for the rest of the night.


End file.
